


wake-up call

by McEnchilada



Series: season 7 ricard fics [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, The Morning After The Night Before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 18:11:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McEnchilada/pseuds/McEnchilada
Summary: Breakfast is a standing appointment, and Beverly means to keep it. Even if it seems Jean-Luc had other plans.follow-up to "A Question of Rank"





	wake-up call

Beverly was in quite a cheerful mood as she made her way down to the captain’s quarters. It had been a week of emotional upheaval—Jean-Luc being missing, Jean-Luc being dead, Jean-Luc being alive, Jean-Luc being a _pirate_ —but things were, thankfully, now back to normal. “Normal” on the _Enterprise_ meant that there would probably be another major crisis within a few days, but, at least for now, she could enjoy the feeling that everything was as it was supposed to be.

And the cornerstone of normalcy? Breakfast.

There was no response the first time she rang the doorbell. Beverly had to fight back a flare of panic at the silence, as irrational as she knew it was. She couldn’t help it; after twenty-five years in Starfleet, worrying just came naturally. But surely not even Jean-Luc could get abducted again so soon, no matter how easily he always seemed to find trouble. He must just be sleeping in after his recent adventure. She frowned at her own silly anxiety, and rang the doorbell again.

There was a beat of silence, and then, muffled by the door, Jean-Luc called, “Yes, who is it?”

She would never admit it, but the sound of his voice came as a relief. “It’s Beverly. I’m here for breakfast.”

“Beverly?” Crew quarters were well-soundproofed, for the most part, but that didn’t apply to the doors. It wasn’t intelligible, but she could hear him swearing to himself, and a lot of rustling of fabric. Still in bed, after all. To Jean-Luc, sleeping in this late probably felt like a shameful indulgence. “I, er, don’t suppose we could postpone this?” he asked through the door.

Beverly smiled. He did so hate to be caught unawares, and another time she might have relented, to give him time to compose himself, but not today. “No, we can’t postpone,” she called back. When she leaned closer to the door, she heard more rustling and some thumps. She would tell him he could take his time getting dressed, if his frenzy wasn’t rather funny. “I’ve got to be on duty in forty-five minutes, and you have some explaining to do, mister.”

“Explaining?” Was it her imagination, or did his voice come out a little strained there, and about an octave higher? If she had to guess, she’d say that he sounded guilty. How odd.

“Yes, I want to know all about your pirate friends. Will filled us in on what he knew, but I want to hear it from you. Don’t expect me to believe that you went through the trouble of dying without even getting a good story out of it.”

“Oh, uh, yes, I—right. Of course.” 

He was coming to the door at last. Before the door opened, Beverly took a step back in order to strike her best “mom waiting for an answer” pose, with her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised expectantly. If Jean-Luc was going to behave like a teenage boy who’d locked himself in his room, Beverly would respond as appropriate.

To her surprise, however, it wasn’t Jean-Luc who appeared in the doorway, but Commander Riker. “Will! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He smiled, chagrined, combing a hand through his untidy hair. He had on his uniform, unlike Jean-Luc, who was wearing some of the loose-fitting pajamas he favored when off-duty. The uniform had clearly spent a night lying on the floor, rather than hung up neatly, but Beverly supposed that it was understandable, given what an extraordinary few days they had had. After all, who wouldn’t look a little rumpled and bleary-eyed, after being kidnapped by pirates and getting in the way of a Vulcan separatist faction’s plot? In any case, if it was up to anyone to make sure the first officer passed inspection, it was up to the captain.

“Had something to discuss,” said Will, vaguely; not much of an explanation.

“Not ship business, I hope. I advised a recovery period before you returned to duty,” she reminded Jean-Luc, giving stern looks to both of them for good measure.

Jean-Luc hastened to reassure her, fidgeting at the hem of his shirt as he did. “No, no, nothing official. I promise, I’ve been resting.” 

“Just some personal business. All taken care of now,” Will put in. He met Jean-Luc’s eye, and both of them smiled, just for a moment. They had an air of shared mischief about them, like they were keeping a secret between themselves. Beverly looked from one to the other, debating whether to press them for answers.

“Well,” she said slowly, “if it’s all taken care of, maybe you’d like to join us for breakfast? I was planning on Bajoran groatcakes with squill syrup.”

Jean-Luc looked alarmed at her inviting Will—or perhaps like he was going to burst into laughter. He was thrumming with nervous energy, and if he thought that she wasn’t going to get to the bottom of it, he had better guess again. She narrowed her eyes at him so he’d know that she knew that _something_ was going on. He refused to look at her, instead fixing his eyes on Will’s profile.

Will, at least, was doing a better job of feigning composure. He didn’t try to conceal his smile, which would have made it more conspicuous, and kept his looks towards Jean-Luc to darting glances when he thought they wouldn’t be noticed. He also had the sense to leave. “Thanks, but I’m on duty next shift, too, and I should freshen up first. Enjoy your breakfast.”

He stepped through the doorway, into the hallway, and then hesitated, and turned back. In a voice that just _dripped_ with nonchalance, he bid Jean-Luc goodbye with a simple, “Captain.” Beverly had never heard the word infused with so much significance, and she’d never seen Jean-Luc blush so red.

Beverly Crusher was an intelligent woman. She’d spent two decades serving in Starfleet medical, a role which depended on people skills almost as much as medical knowledge. And furthermore, she was the mother of a twenty-two-year-old son. A very well-behaved son, who, even as a teen, tended towards honesty and openness to his mother, but no teen was ever _entirely_ open with their parents. And even though the _Enterprise_ didn’t provide much opportunity for mischief, the academy certainly did, and she’d visited him there enough times to know he’d learned to take advantage of that opportunity.

Which was to say, Beverly Crusher knew how to read the signs in front of her. Will’s persistent smile, the way Jean-Luc was clearly forcing himself not to follow Will with his eyes as he left. The giddiness and prevarication. The very rumpled bed covers Beverly could see from where she was standing.

The fact that Will had put on his uniform is such a hurry that he hadn’t zipped it all the way up in the back.

“Oh, yes, Jean-Luc,” she said, with her own, triumphant smile, as she stepped into his quarters and closed the door behind her. “I’d say you have an _awful lot_ of explaining to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Picard & Crusher are platonic BFFs & the fact that they kiss a couple of times in season 7 is deliberately misleading
> 
> if you're looking at my recent posting history & thinking "why is she writing so many TNG fics this month" the answer is that I'm _cursed_ and I can't make it stop


End file.
